


Shit Mickey Needs

by Whoareyou0000



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Anal Beads, Bottom Mickey Milkovich, Canon Gay Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Domestic Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Domestic Mickey Milkovich, Endgame Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Established Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Fluff and Smut, Gay Sex, Ian Gallagher Loves Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher and Mickey Milkovich in Love, Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich Happy Ending, Lists, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Mickey Milkovich Loves Ian Gallagher, POV Ian Gallagher, Romantic Fluff, Shameless Smut, Soft Ian Gallagher, Soft Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Top Ian Gallagher
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:34:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26277238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whoareyou0000/pseuds/Whoareyou0000
Summary: “Give me a list of shit you need and I’ll pick it up for ya.”It’s become their thing. Every week Mickey writes out a list and Ian goes to the store for them both. It’s one gesture that he can do for the man who stood by him, waited for him, for nearly a decade. Besides, Ian can’t help but smile at all the dirty little surprises that Mickey slips between the grocery items and one in particular upon his ring finger.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 10
Kudos: 277





	Shit Mickey Needs

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Shameless or any of the characters within. Warnings for language and graphic sexual content. 
> 
> Author's Note: This is canon up through S10E7. It breaks off afterwards and we're gonna pretend their parole officer never died and Ian wasn't so insecure. Basically, this started because I wanted to know what Mickey would write on a grocery list and then smut and fluff happened. Enjoy and please review!

“Yo, Mick! I’m goin' to Costco. Where’s your list?” 

Ian’s voice reverberated around the Gallagher house with no response. He took the stairs down two at a time, buttoning his flannel along the way, and found an empty, eerily quiet living room. Wiping a hand through his still-wet hair, he circled the sunken couch in search of a body. A thorough rummaging found only a haphazard pile of blankets along with the rotting remnants of a tamale crushed between two pillows.

“Ugh, fucking disgusting Carl.” 

He marched the stained linens into the kitchen and tossed them in the pile beneath the washer. A quick look around revealed the disorderly yet empty space. “Debbie? Liam?” Ian tugged open the back door briefly, uncovering only a cold, strong wind and an accumulating mountain of snow. “Lip!” A powerful gust slapped his face, eliciting a pained gasp, and the door slammed shut. Ian hugged his chest to stave off the sudden chill, his flannel hardly thick enough to combat a Chicago winter, and stood there squinting and suddenly worried for a moment.

Then he gave it one last try. 

“You got two minutes, Mick, or I’m getting the lime JELLO!” 

Of course, they both knew that Ian would wait forever for Mickey. Nothing and no one compared. He’d endure every beating, shotgun marriage, prison sentence, and illegal border crossing all over again for that man with his filthy mouth and penchant to commit murder. That made Ian smile because fuck they’d come so far since he picked up that tire iron. That’s when Ian looked up and noticed the piece of paper stuck to the freezer door and proudly displaying a familiar term of endearment in Franny’s red magic marker. _Firecrotch._ He moved the big tits magnet aside, Carl’s contribution from cancer camp, freed the folded page, and leaned back against the refrigerator to read. Ian traced the careful printing and pictured his boyfriend spread over the kitchen table, tongue poking the side of his lips, while he put real thought into their weekly list. 

Shit Mickey Needs

> 1\. Bar soap- the green shit  
>  2\. Your dick in my ass  
>  3\. That shampoo that smells like tea trees and mints  
>  4\. The biggest fucking bottle of lube you can find  
>  5\. JELLO- No fucking lime!  
>  6\. Gatorade- the blue shit  
>  7\. Twinkies-haha  
>  8\. Floss for Franny to make necklaces and girly shit (Debbie made me write that)  
>  9\. Beer  
>  10\. OJ  
>  11\. Pizza bagels  
>  12\. Pancake mix  
>  13\. Your dick in my ass…again  
>  14\. Cigarettes  
>  15\. Bread and PB (Makin’ a secret stash for your meds because fuckin’ Frank)  
>  16\. Eggs  
>  17\. Baby wipes-not for Frannie ;)  
>  18\. B vitamins- all of ‘em  
>  19\. That deodorant you like so much you can’t stop sniffin’ me  
>  20\. Tabasco  
>  21\. BBQ Pringles  
>  22\. Milk  
>  23\. Your dick in my mouth  
>  24\. Just you. All the time. Every fucking day. Forever.  
>  25\. No really Gallagher, turn around because I’m asking you to marry me like a fucking gay and you’d better say yes or I’ll rip your tongue out. 

  


Ian’s stomach dropped and took his breath along for the ride. Hearting pounding, he followed orders, turning the slowest circle of his entire life, and immediately paled at the sight of Mickey leaning casually against the doorframe, a ring pinched between his thumb and proud middle finger in a gesture that only he could make romantic. He scrunched his brows in his usual nervous way and his faced morphed between hopeful and pissed off. Then those breathtaking blue eyes widened, and his lip quirked slowly up into in serious question. 

“Well what the fuck you say, tough guy? Gonna make me a blushin’ bride or what?” 

Fuck was Mickey perfect with his wayward morning hair, loose sweat pants, and the black wife-beater that showed all his curves. Warmth returned and went straight to Ian’s face and groin. He reverently placed the folded list inside his shirt pocket, took a couple of breaths and then a couple of steps until he and his boyfriend stood nearly nose to nose. His grew a ribbing smile, triggering Mickey to raise his eyebrows, and let his gaze crawl slowly, teasingly down to the solid black ring. 

“Aren't you supposed to get on your knee?” 

Mickey turned his head, hiding a smirk so insistent that his face crinkled adorably. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, that what you want? Fine.” He dropped to one knee, rolling his eyes the whole way and landing with such an endearing smile that Ian liquified. “I fucking _love_ you, asshole. We’ve been through more shit than most people and turns out it’s a lot fuckin’ easier when we’re together. We take care of each other. Hell, that’s more than my blood family ever did for me. So, let’s go all in. Sickness and health, better or worse, all of it.” Mickey sighed, scratched his lip, and then mumbled a question. “Will you marry me, Ian Gallagher?” 

The room stilled, the quiet deafening. Pressure built behind Ian’s eyes. He raked a nervous hand through his hair and laughed nervously. Mickey stared up at him expectantly, then worriedly, and Ian couldn’t make him wait another second. “Yes.”

Ian melted to the floor and gripped Mickey’s face like a fucking vice to keep him close. Then he caressed the brunette’s cheeks with shaky thumbs and rested their foreheads together. “Yes. Yes. Fuck yes, Mickey. To all of it. I love you too and I’m all in.” He leaned in and captured the man’s lips, gripping a fistful of that soft black hair to keep their tongues connected in a dance that never got old. Mickey clung to the sides of Ian’s shirt to keep himself balanced on one leg and rested most of his weight on the taller man. 

“You scared the shit out of me, dickhead.” Mickey whispered between them before sliding the ring onto Ian’s left finger. “Got this off the guy with the cart behind the Alibi. Let me know if it turns your finger green so I can fuck him up.” 

Ian laughed heartily, admiring the stunning band, and then lifted Mickey’s face. “I love it. I love you. You’re everything I’ve wanted since I was fifteen, Mick.”

That confirmation brought life to the older man. His entire body sagged in Ian’s grasp, his guard completely down, and his face relaxed into the calm bliss that only Ian got to see. Eyes the color of the fucking sky glistened as he dug possessive fingers into Ian’s sides. 

“We’re doing this, Gallagher. No one’s ever gonna keep us apart again.” Ian nodded and dragged a palm beneath the strap of Mickey’s shirt, caressing the tattoo beneath. They teetered and nearly fell onto the tile, both erupting into a fit of laughter, before the brunette pulled Ian clumsily to his feet. “Get up, we ain’t got all day.” 

Ian cocked his head and grew a coy smile. “Thought you wanted to suck my dick.” 

Mickey smirked and dragged Ian down by his shirt collar until their lips came torturously close. “Course I fuckin’ do, just not on the kitchen floor. Smells like tamales.” 

Mickey seized his wrist in a grip just tight enough to make a mark and dragged him into the living room. Ian happily went along and lazily thumbed the cold tungsten on his finger, biting back a blooming, stupid grin. He memorized every muscled curve and contour in his fiancé’s broad shoulders, his mouth watering in anticipation. 

_Fiancé._ Fuck, he liked the sound of that.

“Been wantin’ you to pound me into these stairs for years.” Ian’s jeans hit his ankles before they even reached the first step. “Now’s our chance.” 

Mickey squeezed his ass until it hurt and kissed him like the fucking world was on fire. Even if it were, Ian wouldn’t have noticed. He had all he needed right there in a handful of black hair and earnest hips grinding their still clothed dicks together. Ian’s hands wandered over Mickey’s bulge, doing away with his drawstrings expertly, and they breathed a heated, aching moan into each other’s mouths. Their desperate panting reverberated around the empty room and then Ian abruptly pulled back.

“The fuck's wrong now?” Mickey’s eyebrows nearly joined in his frustration. Ian didn’t miss the shadow that passed over his face. “Second thoughts?”

“Fuck no.” Ian seized Mickey’s lips in a searing kiss to prove his point. Their eyes crossed to meet when he nodded nervously towards the front door. “What if Liam or Debbie come home?” 

Mickey smirked and brushed a strand of hair from Ian’s forehead. 

“Why you think I paid everyone to get the hell outta here for the morning?” He pulled just hard enough on Ian’s dick, making the redhead see stars, and licked his lips. “We got six hours to ourselves, Gallagher, and I want you inside me for at least three of ‘em.”

“Mickey Milkovich…” Ian’s eyes nearly rolled back into his head with pleasure. “…you sneaky bastard.” 

“That’s why you fuckin’ love me.” Mickey ran a gentle thumb over Ian’s cheek and then traveled back to tug on his hair. “On the stairs, army, these beads ain’t gonna remove themselves.”

Ian’s body came to life with the realization that he’d get to wake up to that sexy, wicked grin every day forever. When his bare ass hit the step, he thought back to the time that Mickey wrestled the tire iron out of his hands, shoved him onto his childhood bed, and straddled his chest with a raging hard-on. The fight that started it all. 

When Mickey dropped to his knees for the second time that morning, Ian vowed, loudly and repeatedly, to fulfill his every need for the rest of their lives.


End file.
